


Meeting the Father

by xslytherclawx



Series: Cat Café Universe [19]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, Jewish Character, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-08 22:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xslytherclawx/pseuds/xslytherclawx
Summary: It was a popular fancast among Yuri’s Angels, that when they inevitably made a biopic about Yuri Plisetsky’s life, the St. Petersburg-based Russian Jewish actor Ilya Sokolovsky would play some role.But no one expected Yuri to get a call after getting bronze at Worlds in 2019, let alone a call from Sokolovsky’s agent, asking him to cameo as himself in a new film.Or: the fic in which Yuri meets his father & Otabek was the founder of Yuri's Angels





	1. Chapter 1

It was a popular fancast among Yuri’s Angels, that when they inevitably made a biopic about Yuri Plisetsky’s life, the St. Petersburg-based Russian Jewish actor Ilya Sokolovsky would play some role. The two looked almost identical, and were both Jewish (which had resolved the Great Whitewashing Debate of 2015). This, however, was as unified as Yuri’s Angels were on the topic. Some of Yuri’s Angels believed that Sokolovsky should play an older Yuri, looking back on his life. Others, however, saw Sokolovsky as inevitably playing the role of Yuri’s father. Others yet just wanted them to meet.

No one, however, was stupid enough to voice (at least publicly, as a member of Yuri’s Angels) the idea that Sokolovsky might just be Yuri’s real father. The president (and co-founder) of the club had made sure of that. Sure, Sokolovsky was from Moscow, and he’d left the same year Yuri was born for St. Petersburg. But that was pure coincidence – and even if it wasn’t, the president insisted that it was Yuri’s own personal business. (Some club members refused to acknowledge that Yuri might have a personal life they may not be privy to).

But no one expected Yuri to get a call after getting bronze at Worlds in 2019, let alone a call from Sokolovsky’s agent, asking him to cameo as himself in a new film. Well, technically, it was Yakov who got the call, and who asked Yuri in the hotel bar, as Yuri was  _ finally _ eighteen, and wanted to get a drink with his boyfriend to celebrate before actually going out.

Yuri didn’t notice the way Otabek stiffened beside him at the mention of Sokolovsky’s name, or he would have had questions. After all, Sokolovsky was not a household name. For all Yuri knew, Otabek didn’t know the name at all.

Yuri didn’t recognise the name. “Who?” he asked.

“Some actor,” Yakov said. “He’s making his own movie and wants you to be in it. It’ll film in Piter, and you’d just have a small role as yourself.”

“Why me?” Yuri asked. “Why not Victor?”

Otabek had an idea, but he didn’t want to say anything. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Yuri’s Angels were all wrong. It was a fanclub, after all, prone to over analysing every little detail.

“Hell if I know,” Yakov said. “Sokolovsky and his agent want to meet with us in a week.”

Yuri looked to Otabek. “Being in a movie could be cool.”

“You’d have to look at the script first,” Otabek said.

Yuri nodded, and he turned back to Yakov. “I have one deal-breaker that I know right away: I don’t want  _ anything _ to do with Svetlana Andreeva. If she has anything at all to do with this movie, I’m not having any part of it.”

Yakov nodded. “I’ll check.”

“Just don’t bother me in the morning,” Yuri said. “I have a feeling I’ll be occupied.”

Yakov muttered something under his breath and walked away.

“A movie could be cool,” Yuri said to Otabek. “Especially if I’m just being myself.”

Otabek nodded. “Do you… know anything about this actor?”

“Never heard of him,” Yuri said with a shrug. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Otabek said. He finished his drink. “Ready to go?”

Yuri grinned. “Yeah.”

* * *

After Yakov had been assured that Svetlana Andreeva would have nothing to do with the film, he and Yuri met with Sokolovsky and his agent a week after they’d arrived back in St. Petersburg.

They met in the agent’s office, located in the business district of St. Petersburg. They were shown into the office by an assistant. Sokolovsky’s agent was sitting behind a desk.

“Yuri Nikolayevich, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, offering her hand. “I’m Olga Georgievna. I’m afraid that Ilya Yakovich is running a bit late.”

“That’s fine,” Yakov said. “Yakov Yosovich Feltsman.” He shook the agent’s hand as well.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Please, sit down. I can tell you a bit more about the role while we wait for Ilya Yakovich.”

Yuri and Yakov sat down as Olga Georgievna organised some papers on her desk.

“Now,” Olga Georgievna said, “Do you have any questions before we begin?”

“Yeah,” Yuri said. “Why  _ me _ ? Victor’s way more suited for this kind of thing.” Victor was, after all, already a drama queen, so putting him in a film would make sense.

“When I asked Ilya Yakovich, he said that his daughter was a fan of yours.”

Well, Yuri could believe that. Kids seemed to love him. From the Nishigori brats to all of Otabek’s cousins… and he was a damn good skater, at that.

“And… what would the role entail?”

“It’s a small role. The film is a romantic comedy. You – or rather, your character, who is a slightly fictionalised version of you – meet Ilya Yakovich’s character in a café on Nevsky Prospekt and give him advice which, in turn, leads to his character and the female main character getting together. Later, there’s an interview of you after a competition playing in the background.”

That didn’t seem too bad.

Yuri was about to say as much when the door flew open and a man walked in.

“Thank you for making it, Ilya Yakovich,” Olga Georgievna said with more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Please, sit down. I was just telling Yuri Nikolayevich what the role we’re offering him entails.”

The man smiled and offered his hand for Yuri to shake, so he did.

“It’s an honour,” he said. “My daughter, Susya, is a huge fan. That’s actually why I’m late. Please excuse me. I mentioned I was meeting with you today, and she desperately wanted to come.”

“She could have come,” Yuri said. “I don’t mind; I’m okay with kids, and fans, too.” He knew he had a badass reputation, but that didn’t mean he’d be a dick to a little girl, especially if she was a fan. He even tolerated Yuri’s Angels, for crying out loud.

Ilya Yakovich smiled, and in that moment there was something strangely familiar about him. He was tall and thin; Yuri would wager around a hundred and ninety centimeters, with short, light blonde hair and sparkling light blue eyes. He had fair skin, too, and the same kind of stubbly beard that Ryan Gosling had (what? Victor and Katsuki were fucking obsessed with him, and it wasn’t like Yuri spent  _ all _ of his time in his room). But Yuri didn’t dwell too much on it; he’d probably seen Sokolovksy in a film without knowing who he was.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” Ilya Yakovich said, sitting down in the chair next to Yuri with ease. “So,” he said to Yuri, “did Olga Georgievna tell you what the role is, or did I interrupt too soon?”

“I told him,” said Olga Georgievna.

“Do you think it’s something you’d be interested in?” Ilya Yakovich asked.

Yuri thought on it. “Well, I’d need to see the script, but it seems okay so far. Could be interesting.”

Ilya Yakovich smiled. “Good, good,” he said. “I’m glad. Like I said, my daughter Susya’s a huge fan.”

“How old is she?” Yuri asked, hoping she wasn’t an Angel.

“She’s six,” Ilya Yakovich said with no small hint of pride. “Made my wife and I watch the Olympics for you last year, decided she wanted to learn how to skate.”

_ Wife _ . Huh, that was interesting. Sokolovsky didn’t exactly give off a  _ straight _ vibe, but then maybe he was bi, or something. And six was way too young to be an Angel, so crisis averted. “Usually it’s my roommates or my boyfriend who do the whole… inspiring little kids thing.”

“I think I remember reading… you live with Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki, right?”

Yuri nodded. “They’re both Katsuki-Nikiforov now – and will shove it in your face – but yeah.”

“And your boyfriend… I suppose would be Otabek Altin. Susya collects newspaper clippings  – my wife and I read them first to make sure there’s nothing scandalous in there.”

“Otabek is my boyfriend, yes,” Yuri agreed. “He’s already got a lot of kids in Kazakhstan looking up to him.” It was Yuri’s turn to be proud. “Which isn’t surprising, really, because he works really hard, and he’s pretty much consistently medalled since he’s debuted. I mean, he got bronze in Pyeongchang, and coming from a country like Kazakhstan, where there’s not a lot of support for professional athletes, makes it all the more impressive.”

“It’s all impressive,” said Ilya Yakovich.

“So,” Olga Georgievna said. “Yuri Nikolayevich, what do you think?”

“Like I said, I’ll have to see the script, but I’m interested.”

“That won’t be a problem,” said Ilya Yakovich.

“I’ll have a copy sent over to you. Now, as for payment…”

* * *

“How did your meeting go?” Otabek asked from the couch when Yuri got home.

“Pretty good,” Yuri said, walking over to his boyfriend and sitting on his lap. “But I wasn’t thrilled about taking time out of your visit for business.”

Otabek smiled. “It’s fine, Yura. Pyotya’s been keeping me company.”

The cat sat perched on the arm of the sofa, and Yuri picked her up and cuddled her. “Do you know anything Sokolovsky’s been in? He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.”

He felt Otabek tense. “Look, Yura, there’s… something you should probably know…”

“Okay?”

Otabek cleared his throat. “Um, in… certain corners of the internet…”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, there’s not  _ porn _ of me and some thirty-something actor, is there?”

Otabek blinked. “Not… not that I’ve seen? But it’s just that… you know how people do fancasts?”

Yuri, who desperately tried to forget the websites he’d frequented when he was a fan of Katsuki’s back in juniors, shrugged. “I guess.”

“A lot of people are under the impression that Ilya Sokolovsky… bears more than a passing resemblance to you. I mean, ugh, fuck, this had to come out eventually…”

“You’re a member of Yuri’s Angels, aren’t you?” Yuri asked, his attention almost entirely on Pyotya. “It wasn’t hard to work out.”

“I…” Otabek wrapped his arms around Yuri’s waist. “It’s not just that.” He took a deep breath, and Yuri waited for him to finish. “I’m sort of… one of the founders?”

Yuri had not, however, been expecting  _ that _ . “What.”

“And president?”

“ _ What _ ?”

“Look, you  _ know _ that I’ve always admired you, and when Leo and I were training together in the States, you had your debut and he and I noticed you were gaining some fans, and… he might’ve given me the idea to consolidate that fanbase.”

“So you formed Yuri’s Angels.”

“I didn’t call it that. It was the Yuri Plisetsky Fan Club which… as I’m saying it, I’m aware that that’s not much better.”

He went on to say something else, but Yuri didn’t hear. He was too busy laughing. “You are such a fucking  _ sap _ ,” he managed to say between laughs. “Oh my fucking god, this is the ultimate blackmail - could you fucking  _ imagine _ if Victor and Katsuki ever found out? Or fucking hell,  _ JJ _ ?”

“It’s not that funny,” Otabek huffed.

“God, it’s like a fucking shitty rom com. You not only had a crush on me when we were kids, but you started a fanclub for me… and now we’re dating.” Yuri eventually laughed himself out and kissed his boyfriend on the cheek. “Fuck, I love you, you fucking sap.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Unless you  _ intended _ your fan club to turn into a swarm of teenage girls who follow me wherever I go, the only possibly upsetting thing about this is that it makes us sound like Katsuki and Victor.”

“Of course not,” Otabek said. “Honestly, the only reason I still… do anything with that club is to make sure they don’t get too out of control.”

“Then we’re good,” Yuri said.

“Good,” Otabek said, relieved. “And… about Ilya Sokolovsky…”

“What about him?”

“There’s been some… debate on the Yuri’s Angels forums. He’s in a lot of fancastings for biopics of you.”

Yuri frowned, thinking back to the man’s appearance. “I mean, I  _ guess _ . His eyes are blue, though, and he’s like, thirty,  _ and  _ he’s taller than I am.”

“Not by much. But, uh… the fancastings aren’t the worst part? I’m telling you this because I love you, and I don’t want you to be totally caught off-guard if you do do this movie…”

“What?” Yuri asked, curious now.

“There was… debate, at one point, on… whether or not Sokolovsky could be your father.”

“ _ What _ ?” Yuri asked, laughing at the absurdity. “He’s, like, the same age as Victor, probably.”

“He’s thirty-four,” Otabek said. “And your mother is only thirty-three - although, to be fair, the only people who know that are your family and friends.”

That did, unfortunately, make sense.

“Look, I can show you one of the posts, if you don’t believe me. Some fan -  _ not me _ , by any stretch of the imagination - had this big convoluted post on whether or not he was your father. I locked it and would’ve deleted it if I didn’t know they’d just post it again.”

“Beka… is this some stupid conspiracy theory bullshit, or do you think this actually could have… something behind it?”

Otabek shrugged. “Don’t know.”

Yuri hesitated. Pyotya was purring in his lap. The fact that Otabek didn’t immediately dismiss it as ridiculous – that Otabek had  _ told him  _ about this certainly wasn’t a good sign. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and googled Ilya Yakovich Sokolovsky.

A Wikipedia page was the first result.

**Ilya Sokolovsky**

**Ilya Yakovich Sokolovsky** (born 25 November 1984 in Moscow, Russian SFSR) is a Russian actor and writer. [1] He is best known for his role as Boris in the 90s sitcom _В гостях хорошо, а дома лучше_ (where actress Svetlana Andreeva also got her start). [2],[3] He has also appeared onstage in productions of Gogol’s _Inspector_ and _Marriage_, as well as of Babel's _Sunset_. [4],[5]  
  
---  
  
Yuri scrolled down to the biography section.

**Early Life**

Ilya Sokolovsky was born on 25 November 1984 in Moscow, Russian SFSR, Soviet Union. [7] His father, Yakov Sergeyevich Sokolovsky, is a screenwriter and director.[8] His mother, Ekaterina Vladimirovna Sokolovskaya, is an actress and former model.[9] Sokolovsky is Jewish, and had both a brit milah and a bar mitzvah.[10] When Sokolovsky was twelve, he had his first role in a television adaptation of Chekhov’s _Naughty Boy (Злой мальчик)_. [11] At fourteen, he had his television debut in _В гостях хорошо, а дома лучше ___ _ _, where he played Boris, the best friend ofTanya Kuznetsova. [12] It was rumoured at the time that Sokolovsky had a romantic relationship with Svetlana Andreeva (née Plisetskaya), who played Tanya, although these rumours were never substantiated. __  
  
---  
  
“ _ Fuck _ ,” Yuri cursed.

Otabek rested his chin on Yuri’s shoulder. “What? What’s wrong?”

Yuri read aloud: “It was rumoured at the time of filming  _ V gostyakh horosho, a doma luschye _ , Sokolovsky had a romantic relationship with Svetlana Andreeva, née Plisetskaya, who played Tanya, although these rumours were never substantiated.”

“That doesn’t… necessarily mean… anything, right?”

Yuri kept reading.

Sokolovsky’s family moved to St. Petersburg in July 2000, after _В гостях хорошо, а дома лучше_ finished filming. [13] Sokolovsky has said that this was due to his mother taking on a new, long-term role.[14]  
  
---  
  
“Beka,” Yuri said slowly. “You’re smart.”

“I like to think so.”

“Nine months before my birthday.”

Otabek furrowed his brows. “I  _ think _ that’d be June, but I’m not sure.”

“ _ Fuuuck _ ,” Yuri whined. “Shit, I think I need to call Ded.”

Otabek didn’t move. “Do you want some privacy?”

Yuri shook his head. “Not from you.”

He went to his home screen and called his grandfather, who picked up after a few rings.

“Yurachka?”

“Hey, Ded,” Yuri said. “Um… look, this is… maybe a little weird, but you remember that offer I got to be in that movie?”

“Of course I do,” his grandfather said. “What’s going on?”

“The… producer and lead actor is someone named Ilya Sokolovsky. And Beka said there’s some theory on the message boards about… Sokolovsky being related to me.”

There was silence on the other end, so Yuri continued.

“And… Sokolovsky’s Wikipedia page says he’s from Moscow… and that there were rumours of him having had a relationship with  _ her _ …”

“Yurachka…”

“Is it… is it true?”

His grandfather’s silence told him what he needed to know.

“Ded?”

“He doesn’t know,” Nikolai told him. “Sveta made sure of that.”

“What? He doesn’t know I exist?”

“Your grandmother and I tried to talk sense into her, or to tell him ourselves, but Sveta wouldn’t listen to reason, and we had no way of contacting him.”

“So I could’ve… I could’ve had a father this whole time?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Yurachka. There’s no way to know.”

This was a lot to work through; he’d expected his grandfather to assure him that his father was some deadbeat still living in Moscow, not the very same actor who had asked him to have a role in his new film.

“I’ll… call you tomorrow, Ded,” Yuri said.

“Yurachka, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Yuri lied. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Beka and I want to visit before he has to go back to Almaty.”

“Yurachka…”

“I’m  _ fine _ , Ded. I gotta go. Victor just came back.” Victor had not just come back. “Love you, bye.”

His grandfather sighed. “I love you, too, Yurachka. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” Yuri said, and he hung up the phone.

He looked to Otabek, who was visibly concerned. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. His voice was level and his tone was gentle, not prodding, and Yuri loved him all the more for it.

“Honestly,” Yuri said, “I’d much rather you fuck me senseless, and then order in the greasiest, most fattening food we can find.”

Otabek reached up and kissed him. “I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read almost all of the works mentioned, and really love Gogol.  
> In Russian culture, there's no construct for "Ms." / "Mr." and instead you use the first name + patronymic, so the polite way to refer to Yuri would be "Yuri Nikolayevich".


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek suggests Yuri talk to Victor. Yuri drags his feet a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or: in which Beka reads the books I like and Yuri eats the food I like.

Yuri should have known, really, that that wouldn’t be the end of it. He knew Otabek didn’t want to piss him off or upset him in any way, but he also knew that his boyfriend wasn’t about to let him ignore this completely – especially not when he was supposed to give Sokolovsky’s agent a decision.

The next day, he woke up wrapped around Otabek, who had somehow managed to get a book out and start reading without waking him.

“Morning,” Yuri mumbled, nuzzling into Beka’s chest.

Otabek ran a hand through Yuri’s hair. “Good morning.”

“What’re you reading?” He didn’t really care; he and Otabek almost never liked the same books, but he liked listening to Otabek talk about the books he liked.

“ _ Moskauer Eis _ by Annett Gröschner,” Otabek answered. “I don’t know if you’d like it. It’s about a woman who returns home to Magdeburg to care for her dying grandmother after the Berlin Wall falls and tries to figure out how her father died.”

“I can’t speak German, anyway,” Yuri said. “But that seems… morbid.”

“It kind of is,” Beka agreed. “But I’m enjoying it. And I’ve got the sequel, too. It’s more of an Ostalgie novel than anything.”

“Ostalgie?” Yuri repeated.

“Yeah. It’s a type of Nostalgia for the GDR. Like how some people will be nostalgic for the Soviet Union.”

“Fucking Yakov.”

Otabek laughed. “Yakov among them, yes.”

Yuri sighed. He didn’t feel like moving, so he lay there, listening to Otabek’s heartbeat. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Beka replied. He marked his page in his book and put it aside. “Why don’t we go get breakfast?”

Yuri considered it. Breakfast likely meant running into Katsudon and Victor, and he wasn’t really in the mood, but he was hungry. “Fine,” Yuri agreed after a few minutes. He reluctantly sat up, already missing the warmth. He pulled on some clothes and opened the door.

Pyotya was sitting there, looking horribly offended. Shit, that was right. He and Beka had forgotten to let her back in. He scooped the cat up. “I’m sorry, Pyotya, princess,” he said, kissing her soft, furry head.

Pyotya purred, apparently forgiving him.

“Let’s go get you some breakfast.”

He carried her out to the kitchen and put her down on one of the stools before going to the refrigerator and getting her food out. He served some up for her in one of her bowls, and, since Victor and Katsuki weren’t home, put it out for her on the breakfast island, to make sure that the dumb dog didn’t eat it for her.

Otabek padded out to the kitchen, and stopped when he saw Pyotya on the counter. “You know, Victor and Katsuki aren’t going to be happy about that.”

“They don’t need to know, right?” Yuri walked over and kissed him.

Otabek kissed him back. But when he pulled away, Yuri could tell that his boyfriend was about to bring it up. “Yura,” he said.

“No.”

“Talk to Victor about it.”

“Victor?” Yuri practically spit. “Why would I talk to  _ him _ ?”

Otabek sighed. “Because he has… similar issues.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, but he had to admit, deep down, that Otabek had a point. Victor would know better than anyone. But Yuri hadn’t yet reached the level of acceptance where he’d be comfortable asking others for advice.

“Yura,” Otabek said, “you need to give him an answer by next week.”

“Exactly,” Yuri said. “I have a week.” And he intended to use it.

* * *

Three days later, after a not insignificant amount of needling from his boyfriend, Yuri flopped down on the couch next to Victor after practise. 

Otabek was in the shower, and Katsudon was walking the dog. This meant, of course, that Yuri was alone with Victor.

Victor looked over at him. “Yes?”

“Your dad’s a piece of shit, right?”

Victor stiffened, “Yes, he is. Why do you ask?”

Yuri shrugged, trying to figure out what, exactly to say. He hadn’t really thought this through. “What’s it like to know who he is?”

Victor fixed him with a strange look. “I prefer not to think about him. He told my mother that he didn’t want anything to do with us when she got pregnant, and once I started winning competitions, he swooped back into my life like a vulture.” Victor pushed his bangs back and looked Yuri in the eyes. “Yuri, what is this about?”

He called him  _ Yuri _ , which was how Yuri knew that the old man was being serious. As much as he despised the nickname “Yurio”, he knew that when Victor used that, he was in a reasonably good mood. If he called him “Yurachka”, he was pissed. But  _ Yuri… _

“Remember how I got that offer to be in a movie?” He looked over at Victor, who nodded. “Well, Beka told me, the lead actor, Ilya Sokolovsky… a lot of fans of mine think… we’re related, somehow, and… he’s only a year older than my mother - fucking piece of shit she is - and he’s from Moscow, and there were rumours in 2000, that they were dating, and then he left… so I called Ded, and he said that it was true.”

Victor frowned. “This actor is your father?”

Yuri nodded. “A-and he doesn’t know that I exist. I mean, he asked me to be in his movie, of course he knows I  _ exist _ , but he has no idea he has a son, and he has no clue that son is me.”

“Your grandfather was sure he didn’t know?”

“Yeah,” Yuri said, nodding again. “He said he and Baba tried to convince my mother to tell him, but she’s a piece of shit, so of course she didn’t, and they had no way to contact him, so…”

Before Yuri was even aware of what was happening, Victor was hugging him. “I’m so glad you came to me for advice,” Victor said. “And I’m sorry this is happening.”

Yuri didn’t shove him off, even though, as a rule, he didn’t enjoy surprise hugs.

“I think… as painful as it may be, you should tell him. Maybe he’s figured it out.”

“How would he figure it out?” Yuri asked.

“How did your  _ fans _ figure it out? And he knows that he had a relationship around nineteen years ago with a girl with your last name. Your fans don’t know she’s related to you.”

Yuri hadn’t even considered that. “He said his daughter was a fan.”

“You should tell him,” Victor repeated. “If he’s using you, you deserve to know. If he’s not…  _ he  _ deserves to know. I’m not going to lie and say that it’ll all be okay, but… it could be.”

“No matter what, though, I’m not gonna have had a dad my whole life.”

“That’s true,” Victor conceded. “It won’t change the past. But if you tell him, and it turns out he genuinely wants to try to have a relationship with you… how would you feel about that?”

“I just always figured my dad was some useless piece of shit living in Moscow. I always thought he didn’t want anything to do with me. I mean, she fucking left me, why would he have stayed? But he said… on Wikipedia, he said that he left Moscow because the show was done filming, that he was in, and his mom got a new role that meant she had to move here.”

Victor hummed. “Well, he  _ was _ underage - I’m sure he didn’t have any say in moving here, and if your mother didn’t tell him…”

“I don’t know,” Yuri said.

“Hm?”

“I don’t know… how I’d feel if he genuinely wanted to have a relationship with me. I’m eighteen. I don’t need a dad anymore, right?”

“I’ve never had a  _ dad _ , so I wouldn’t know. Even if he becomes very involved in your life, it’s not going to magically change the past. And you’re an adult, and besides that, your grandfather was your legal guardian, so it would be up to you… if he’s interested in being in your life. And I have no idea if he is. You can only figure that out if you tell him.”

Yuri huffed and Victor let go of him. Yuri definitely didn’t miss the warmth and closeness. Of course not; Victor was a pain in the ass.

“I’m going to text Yuuri to get us some ice cream. We’ll have a treat. It’s the off-season.”

Okay. Maybe Victor wasn’t that bad.

“Yuri,” Victor said. “I think you should tell him, but if you don’t want to… you don’t have to. No one would think any less of you. It’s a very difficult situation to be in.”

“Thanks,” Yuri muttered. “I’m gonna go find Pyotya.”

He went to get up, but Victor stopped him. “Yuri, remember that if you choose not to tell him, or even speak to him again, Yuuri and I will be happy to continue being your dads.”

“You had to make it fucking weird, didn’t you?” Yuri muttered as he stalked off.

* * *

Katsuki came back with tubs of absurdly expensive artisanal ice cream in all of Yuri’s favourite flavours. And, thankfully, he’d remembered to get some of the [cheap waffle ice cream sandwiches](https://xslytherclawx.tumblr.com/post/164026494526/in-meeting-the-father-chapter-two-i), which, really, Yuri loved more than any of the expensive ass shit.

Yuri wasn’t sure if Victor had told Katsuki or not, but he found he didn’t really mind. Katsuki wouldn’t tell anyone else, and he probably wouldn’t offer unsolicited advice – especially since he had the perfect fucking family. Katsuki had more tact than that.

Yuri unwrapped one of the ice cream sandwiches - crème brûlée flavoured - and bit into it. Fuck, that was good.

“I could always make  _ actual _ crème brûlée instead of…  _ that _ ,” Victor said.

Yuri flipped him off, his mouth too full of delicious ice cream to verbalise a response.

Otabek came out of Yuri’s bedroom, wearing sweatpants which Yuri knew for a  _ fact _ were very comfortable (if not a bit short for Yuri, since they  _ were _ hemmed to fit Otabek) and a blue t-shirt. “I wasn’t in the shower that long, was I?”

“I asked Yuuri to get us a treat while he was out walking Makkachin,” Victor said.

“It was no problem,” Katsuki said. “Besides, it’s the off season. Help yourself, Otabek.”

Otabek looked to Yuri, who rolled his eyes. “ _ Yes _ , I talked to Victor,” Yuri said between bites.

Otabek didn’t reply; he and Yuri always understood each other well, and Yuri knew that his boyfriend was glad he’d finally talked to Victor about what was going on. They’d talk more about it later. For now, Otabek got a bowl and they enjoyed some ice cream together.

* * *

Later that afternoon, when Victor and Katsuki were getting gross, Yuri dragged Otabek out onto the balcony.

“So,” Yuri said, leaning against the railing and looking out onto the city.

“So,” Otabek repeated.

“Victor says I should tell him. Sokolovsky. Said if he’s using me, I deserve to know, and if he’s not, then he deserves to know.”

“And what do you think?” Otabek asked, meeting his boyfriend’s gaze.

Yuri bit his lip. “Much as it fucking pains me to admit it, he made a lot of sense.”

“Yura, you know you don’t have to tell him.”

“I know,” Yuri said, nodding. “Victor made that clear. But I also know… I can’t just… know who he is and not do anything about it. Maybe I’d have done that once, but now…”

Otabek nodded. “Do you want me to be there?”

Yuri considered it. He’d figured Otabek would offer, really, but… he still hadn’t quite made up his mind on how he felt about that. “Maybe… nearby? But I think this is something I have to do on my own.”

“Okay,” Otabek agreed, reaching for Yuri’s hand.

“I… wanted to call his agent, and tell her that I wanted to talk to him personally before I make a decision.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Otabek agreed. “I don’t really think he’s any more famous than you are, so that doesn’t sound like it’d be an issue.”

Yuri managed a smile, incredibly grateful for his boyfriend… and, sure, for Victor and Katsuki, too. He was in a generous mood. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, found Sokolovsky’s agent’s contact info, and pressed the call button.

“Olga Georgievna Kozlova.”

“Hello, this is Yuri Nikolayevich Plisetsky.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as shaky as he felt. He felt Otabek’s hand clasp his shoulder, which helped.

“Yuri Nikolayevich! It’s a pleasure to hear from you. Have you made a decision yet?”

“Not quite yet,” Yuri said. “I actually… I have some questions, and I wanted to know if it’d be possible to arrange a meeting with Ilya Yakovich directly.” He didn’t particularly like doing this on false pretenses, but if it went to shit… the fewer people who knew, the better.

“Of course,” Olga Georgievna said almost immediately, much to Yuri’s surprise.

“Just the two of us,” Yuri added. No agent, no Yakov, and no secret half-sister to disappoint. Or… well, wait, if she liked him, she’d probably be happy about it, right? Whatever.

It took Olga Georgievna a bit longer to reply to this. “I’ll have to talk that over with him. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And tell him I’ll have a signed photo for his daughter,” Yuri added. That would add incentive, right?

“I think he’d like that,” Olga Georgievna said. “I’ll talk with him and get back in touch with you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He hung up and turned to Otabek. “Wherever we’re meeting, I want you nearby. I know that makes us sound gross and old like Victor and Katsuki but…”

“But this is a terrifying, potentially life-changing moment, and you want someone you love nearby. I know.”

Yuri leaned down and kissed him, because  _ fuck _ he had the best boyfriend in the whole world.


End file.
